The Existential Divide / The more observational of you will remember I put this up awhile ago. And it’s back, slightly different, added text and white not black. I worked on a version with some more emphasis on text woven through it after some people I trust gave some advice. However I went back to a slightly more simplified version as I think that it really shouts on it’s own. That the crisp stark iconic impression of a barcode combined with the ever-so-recognisable, and yet never actually seen in this way, map of the world, cause more avenues of thought than one can reasonably handle without a stiff drink. / But now I’m doing that weird ranting thing about my own work which I normally try and avoid, I like it, and really that’s all that fucking matters. Where’s the whiskey?
Oil on canvas, 18” x 14” (457×356mm). .
What’s within is without and what we are we are not. Investigating the thin (or thick) lines that divide concrete and spiritual reality. I often wonder whether it is possible for us to traverse these boundaries, and if they do indeed exist. It’s a source of constant wonder for me. So this work is really meant to symbolize a sort of existentialist dualism. Dig? / Original work was completed in watercolor and gouache on Arches 180lb. cold-pressed cotton rag.
Skeleton of desert plant. Studio still life. Photo based mixed medium image. Extreme image softness, textures, and grain.
Oil on canvas, 18” x 14” (457×356mm).
Oil on canvas, 18” x 22” (457×559mm). This was the first painting I produced after a hiatus of 13 years. It was done very quickly and spontaneously, even crudely (I didn’t even own an easel). For all its faults it still remains a very important picture for me.
Pencil drawing, 10” x 12” (254×304.8mm)
It’s all about the futility of looking for meaning outside yourself.
Oil on block canvas, 16” x 16” (406×406mm).
We all want what we can’t have.
thicket
Temporally disordered, but posted to answer the question of where Studly procured his bone-tree fairy… On the other hand he insists that this is just another example of Cog’s solipsistic monomania trying to pull focus from him.
T.S. Eliot illlustrated to save you reading the anthology.
txtr
Abstract Realist oil painting inspired existential loneliness.
He’s had a busy fall. He’s migrated from above timber line, down to the meadows and streams. He’s collected and herded as many cows (female elk) as he could for his harem, he’s dueled with other big bulls, and still has to chase away rivals, and he’s bugled until he’s hoarse (pardon the pun). Now he’s mated with each of the 30 cows in his harem half a dozen times or so. And year after year, season after season, rut after rut. at some point, you just have to ask yourself, “Is this all there is to life? Isn’t there anything more than just assuring my genes get passed along to assure a strong, healthy population? Nobody asks me how I’m feeling – asks how my day was. Sometimes it just gets so – well – predictable.” RMNP
You look out when it’s in.
new nac
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